


Hooked

by reynkout



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternative Universe - Fishermen, Anal Sex, Bad Jokes, Collaboration, Comedy, Consensual, Daddy Kink, Explicit Sexual Content, Fish Puns, Fisherman Jean, Fishing, Gay Sex, M/M, Marco Is A Brat, Oral Sex, Rich Marco Bott, Shameless Smut, alternative universe, brat taming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-08-08 21:33:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7774516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reynkout/pseuds/reynkout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean Kirstein works for the Bodt Fishing Company, a renowned supplier of crab, lobster, and shrimp. It's not too shabby of a job, and Jean thinks he can manage for a few years after signing his contract with the Bodts.<br/>That is, until he meets his boss's rich, snobby and stuck-up son who's name is Marco.</p><p>Jean is soon to find out that there is much more to Marco than what first meets the eye.</p><p>On hiatus until further notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Never Liked Rose Gold Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> A great thank you to [Bell](http://littlestpersimmon.tumblr.com/) and [Bee](http://2-bee.tumblr.com/) for getting this ball of creativity rolling and providing such a good story line backbone! <3  
> Just a note: Marco is a real brat in this one, so I apologize it's hella unrealistic, m'kay? Thankfully, he's got Jean to keep him in check. ;-)  
> Please enjoy this first installment of "Hooked". There'll be much more of this in store.  
> xoxo Kristi

Waking up on a boat wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience. To Jean Kirstein, though, it was just another morning on the job. What a long-ass job it was, too.

It wasn’t _bad_ , really. Though it was drab and dank in the sleeping quarters, as soon as one made their way up to the deck, the scent of salty sea air would instantly clear anyone’s head of the groggy fog in their mind. Or, at least, that’s what Jean felt it was like.

“Rise and shine, folks,” bellowed Reiner, one of Jean’s crewmates. He was always the first one awake in the morning. Sometimes, when Jean couldn’t sleep very well, he’d sneak out onto the deck and watch Reiner work his hearty muscles out, wishing that he could someday be as fit as Reiner.

Jean heard a groan from the bunk across from him. No doubt, Eren was still trying to get some shut eye.

 _Too bad,_ Jean thought. _It’s time to catch some crab. And not the crabbiness Eren’s going to give me in five minutes._

Eren flopped onto his stomach in bed, pulling the sheets tighter around his body. “God, Reiner. Do you even know what it means to get some sleep?” he complained, sending a glare at the man before slamming his face back down into the pillow.

Reiner laughed, obnoxiously loud for someone at the crack of dawn. “Now, now, Eren,” he scolded playfully. “It’s time to get-,”

“Up, up, up!” That wasn’t Reiner’s voice, Jean noticed. It was higher pitched, with a nice nasally quality to it. Jean couldn’t lie that he fancied the intonations too, making the sentence feel regal even though it was just a cohesive string of _words_. It was such a nice voice for someone so wicked…

“Aw, such a buzzkill, Mr. Bodt.” Connie whined from the bunk bed above Jean. He chucked his pillow at Jean in attempt to get him moving. Jean frowned, slowly sitting up before rolling his head from side to side. He relished in the little pops it made each time.

Marco Bodt, however, did not seem amused. He strutted past Reiner, who stood at the doorway, until he reached Jean and Connie’s bunk. Crossing his arms over his chest, Marco said with a snotty look on his face, “For the last fudging time, Connie, it’s ‘Marco’, you hear? Not ‘Mr. Bodt’, not ‘Sir’; just ‘Marco’!” He scrunched up his nose. “Whenever I hear someone call me ‘Mr. Bodt’, I think my dad’s here or something. Ugh.”

Jean fought the urge to roll his eyes at his boss’s bratty son Marco. He desperately wanted to teach this kid a lesson, but he knew he’d only get fired if he did something as small as touch a hair on Marco’s little head… not that he was much older than Marco himself.

“Come on, Connie.” he gruffed, sounding more rough than he intended to. “Let’s get a move on.” Jean pulled back his sheets, hissing as his sock-clad feet hit the floor. It was freezing, even with his thermals on.

Marco tsked, looking Jean straight in the eyes when Jean stood up to his full height. Jean swore Marco was peering down his nose at him, even though Marco was only an inch or two taller. Smirking smugly, Jean ran a hand through his messy dark blond mop of hair, fingers grazing his undercut before lazily covering a big, sleepy yawn.

“Whatever,” Marco finally said, waving the crewmen off. “I’ll be on deck if you need me.” And, with that, he stalked out of the sleeping quarters.

“‘I’ll be on the deck if you need me’,” Jean mimicked Marco in a flamboyant and sassy tone once his boss’s son was out of earshot. A burst of laughter came from every one of his crewmates’ mouth.

Reiner looked slightly impressed by Jean’s mock impersonation. “But seriously, dudes, you need to get ready. The water’s looking pretty choppy right about now, and we’re gonna get a shit load of crab by tonight.”

“How do you know?” asked Connie as he slid off his bed and landed with on his feet with a thud. He started to dress himself, battling Jean for the same white tank top.

Jean groaned, “Don’t you have your own clothes?” He yanked the top away from his crewmate, pulling it over his head to dress himself.

Connie sighed, “Mine’s lost at sea, don’t you remember?”

“Guys,” Reiner pressed his lips into a thin line, looking slightly disappointed. “Get your act together.” He pinched Eren’s ear, earning himself a yelp. If Eren wasn’t already awake, he was now. “Besides, I’ve got that feeling in my stomach again telling me we’re gonna score big this time.”

Jean shrugged. “I mean, I guess.” When nobody agreed with him, he threw Connie a spare t-shirt and reasoned, “The last time Reiner got a good feeling, we ended up with a cage full of lobster. Why can’t you just believe him?”

“Maybe because we don’t always trust so-called ‘gut feelings’, Jean.” Eren retorted, brushing past him. “Not everyone believes in miracles like catching a boatload of crab at the end of crab season. Just like how not everyone believes their father’s gonna come back from the army.”

“You take that back, Eren!” Jean’s blood boiled suddenly, and he grabbed the back of Eren’s shirt, yanking him to the side. “You take that back right now.”

Eren simply glowered at him with his emerald-green eyes, baring his teeth at Jean like a rabid animal. Jean wouldn’t have been surprised if Eren spit on him right then. “Make me, Kirstein.”

Jean growled low in his throat, ready to tear Eren a new one, when Reiner shoved between them and broke them apart from one another.

“Sheesh, not right now.” He shook his head at both of them. “Y’all can fight it out on land if you’d like but, right now, we’ve got crustaceans to haul. Got it? Get your damn heads straight, or we’re all fired.”

Reiner did have a point there. If Eren and Jean kept up their bickering, the whole crew would surely be in for some trouble. Eren was the first to shove past both Jean and Reiner.

“Fine,” he said, short and curt. “Beat your ass later, Jean.”

Jean grit his teeth, but stopped when he felt a warm hand land on his shoulder. Reiner looked at him sternly. Rolling his eyes for the second time today, he allowed himself to cool down, fingers immediately going to the dog tags that hung around his neck. He willed the tears not to sting his eyes.

Reiner patted him on the back, cusping a hand around the back of Jean’s neck for a bit before he let go and said in a low voice, “Hey, man. You’re gonna be okay.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jean calmed himself. He steadied his breathing, the hotness in his nose and cheeks slowly subsiding. After a while, he nodded. “Yeah,” he finally let out. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m gonna be okay.”

Grinning, Reiner nudged him in the ribs. “Alright, dude. Let’s go get some grub before Connie and Mylius eat it all.”

Jean laughed, punching Reiner in the arm playfully before making his way to the makeshift mess hall they had on the boat.

It’d been several hours out on the deck, and it looked like the crew wasn’t going to have any luck at catching crab. The waters were choppy, per usual, but it didn’t mean they were going to catch anything. Jean had reeled in two empty net cages already, and it was starting to get stormy out in the distance.

Glancing over at his boss’s son, Marco seemed to be diddling away his time on a brand new iPhone as he was so stuck to his screen that Reiner almost knocked him over the boat when he passed by with some fishing equipment. Without a moment to spare, Jean set down what he was doing and ran towards Marco and Reiner.

With wide arms, Jean shoved Marco towards the middle of the boat, landing with a roll to minimize the hurt of his fall. He heard Marco scream, but at least he knew the boss’s son was safe.

“Are you okay, Marco?” Jean rasped, picking himself up from the ground. His hands stung from his landing, but nothing else on his body seemed to be harmed.

Marco had somehow already managed to get to his feet. He was sulking now, no, pouting as Jean saw. Wait, was he _throwing a fit_? Before Jean could touch his arm, Marco pulled away, shrieking, “My iPhone!” He pointed over the side of the boat.

 _Damn it_ , Jean groaned internally. He said, “Marco, it fell over the side. It’s lost now.”

“Bullshit.” he deadpanned.

“Marco, I’m serious.” Jean said, looking over the railing of the boat. “Wait,” Leaning over a little more, he squinted hard, seeing a glimmer amidst the waves. It was floating away slowly, riding the water.

Jean almost jumped when he felt hands on his shoulders. Marco was pushing him slightly, almost screaming in his ear.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Bring it back!”

Jean whipped around, shoving his boss’s son off of him. “Are you nuts? Your phone is a lost cause, Marco.” he ground out, arms splayed wide in frustration. “What do I do? _Catch_ it with my net?”

“Exactly!” Marco replied, just as annoyed as Jean was. “That phone is seven-hundred dollars, Jean! _Seven-hundred_. Can you even count that high?” Jean scoffed at Marco’s remark, but not before the boss’s son continued, “Ew, don’t answer that. I mean, it’s _rose-gold_ , for heaven’s sake. I can’t just say I ‘lost it at sea’. Just hurry up. My phone isn’t just going to wait for your beckon and call.” He huffed at last.

 _Stupid rich kids_ , Jean muttered inwardly. He faintly wondered how many other snobby kids were out there like Marco, demanding their dad’s employee to do something that was completely worthless and time-consuming.

He spat out, “Fine.” A permanent grimace settled over his face. 

Searching for the finest woven net they had, Jean had Eren help him hold the ends while he threw it in the phone’s direction. Fighting the ocean’s rough current, both Jean and Eren began to heave the net back into the boat, in hopes of catching Marco’s iPhone. Marco seemed to be having digital withdrawal, beginning to throw a tantrum; as much a tantrum from a grown man could get. Connie side-eyed him warily, but otherwise said nothing. He kept on with his duties, praying to God that Jean would get the phone back to Marco before he decided to upset Poseidon, or whatever.

Not five minutes later, Eren and Jean were searching the net for Marco’s rose-gold iPhone. Anger was, no doubt, visible on Eren’s face. Why the hell were they looking for a waterlogged phone that cost diddly-jackshit to the boss’s son again? More importantly…

“Why the hell aren’t you helping us find it?” Eren screwed up his face at Marco. “It’s _your_ phone, after all.”

Like it was a known fact, Marco gave Eren the stink eye, saying, “Uh, duh? Because you’re finding it for me. I don’t want to touch those slimy nets if I don’t have to.” He looked at his nails as a display of boredom.

Grumbling under his breath, Eren looked at Jean, communicating with him silently. Jean shrugged. He didn’t want anything more to do with this than Eren did, but it wasn’t like they necessarily had a choice. Disappoint Marco, and there was the chance either one of them- or both- would lose their fishing job.

Ah, there it was. Jean pried the phone from the fishing net, flipping it over and over in his hands as if to study it. There was no way the processor could have survived all that sea water. The screen looked completely soaked, too. 

“Here,” Jean dropped the iPhone into Marco’s hands.

Marco held his rose-gold cellphone to his chest like he was cradling a baby. “Finally,” he exclaimed, looking as if he could kiss someone or something. If Jean hadn’t been thinking straight, he would have almost believed Marco was about to kiss _him_. Instead, he got a sneer almost as mean as the stink eye Eren got. “What are you looking at?”

“Nothing.” Jean diverted his gaze to the ground.

“You better not be checking me out, Jean.” Did Marco just tease him? Jean couldn’t be sure. Besides, Jean was doing his best to hide those stolen glances at his boss’s son who was, to say the least, fit beyond belief.

Jean opted for a smirk on his face in retaliation. “As if.”

“Right.” Marco said. Then, “Wait, what?”

He whipped around at Jean, but Jean was already back on the job, assisting Reiner and Mylius with a big load of crab hauled onto the deck. Reiner had been right about the catch after all.

* * *

Whenever Jean returned to land, the first few days were always carried out on wobbly sea legs. The fact that land didn’t move with the swells of the sea felt strange to Jean’s feet and, at times, he could only describe his dizziness and confusion as “landsickness”.

He must’ve tidied up his apartment before he left last week, because Jean couldn’t find the TV remote. It wasn’t uncommon that he tried to fix something last minute before he went to catch some crustaceans.

Giving up his search for the remote control, Jean flopped down on his sofa. Opening up the app on his Samsung cell, he turned the TV on that way. Technology could come in handy at times.

The TV wasn’t so much there for actual television watching as to an expensive background noisemaker. Jean barely paid attention to the PBS broadcast playing on the screen, eyes focused on his phone. He did his normal routine: checked his emails from all three email accounts, browsed through a tiny section of posts on his go-to blog site, and scrolled through the numerous new Youtube videos his favorite Youtubers had put out while he was gone, only to Chromecast the videos onto his TV and watch that instead of actual cable. He was halfway done browsing the blog site when a text notification popped up at the top of Jean’s phone screen.

Too lazy to read it, he swiped it away and kept on with his routine until he went back to the home screen. Sighing, Jean finally tapped on the message.

**From: 713485-2221**

_You’re invited to my private party at 9pm! Meet at the Shinganshina Line dock and show this code (attached) to the bouncers. Bring your bikinis, or you’re going into the yacht’s pool nude._  
Be there, or be square.  
~ Marco Bodt 

Jean looked over the barcode that came with the text message, his face cross. What were the odds of being invited to his boss’s son’s _yacht party_? Apparently much more than his luck for getting a date.

Jean groaned when he received another text from the guy he was hooking up tomorrow with. Go figure. The guy had decided to pull out (figuratively) last minute, apologizing meekly with a “maybe next time?”; Jean had had enough. Dropping his phone onto the carpet, he pulled the decorative pillow on the couch and covered up his face. Maybe a nap would do him some good.

But it didn’t. Not really. Within an hour, Jean was up on his feet again, pacing back and forth in his kitchenette and debating on what he wanted to eat. It was too early to have breakfast, yet too late to have dinner.

 _A midnight snack_ , Jean corrected himself mentally.

Ramen seemed too unsatisfying for his empty stomach. A sandwich was too unappetizing for him, not to mention bland as his cooking skills were only basic. Throwing the freezer door open, Jean rifled through the numerous microwave meals. Beef stroganoff? Sure. Jean shut the door just as hard when he had made his selection.

While his food was being zapped in the microwave, he couldn’t stop looking at the text Marco had sent him. Well, Marco didn’t just send it to him, exactly. It was a mass text, obviously. But _still_. Jean had every right to believe Marco hated his guts, especially after the phone incident. This had to be a fluke.

In all honesty, Jean thought Marco was… “attractive” wasn’t the even the beginning of how Jean felt about the guy. Take away his snotty personality and entitlement issue, and Marco would be the perfect boyfriend. He was toned, fit, with a gorgeous bronze tan that Jean could only be jealous of. How he managed to do it, Jean had no idea; it was usually never sunny enough to golden up. His dark hair was always so kept. Those deep chocolate eyes of Marco’s, too, were framed by long and perfect eyelashes that were effortlessly curled. He looked nothing like his father, Bodt senior, except for maybe his nice jawline.

So maybe Jean just really liked Marco’s looks, he admitted shortly after thought. He would have liked more too, if not for the boss’s son’s bad attitude. He exhaled softly.

Was he really going to go to Marco’s party? First off, Jean hadn’t slept properly in days. He wasn’t even sleeping now, even with the chance he had. And second, did Marco even _like_ him? It seemed ridiculous to attend a party when the host was someone who hated him.

**From: Conn-star**

**_Yo, r u going 2 marcos later?_ **

Jean narrowed his eyes at Connie’s text, not sure what to think. After a while he replied.

**To: Conn-star**

**_I dunno. Are you going?_ **

He had wanted to say no, essentially, though he figured if Connie was going, so were the others on his fishing crew.

He added, **_Is our squad going?_**

**From: Conn-star**

**_Mylius said he’s goin w his gf. Eren & Reiner said yea._ **

**To: Conn-star**

**_Are you bringing anyone?_ **

**From: Conn-star**

**_Nah. Plannin 2 hook up w some girl or whatevs._ **

So that’s what Connie wanted to do. He was down for going to Marco’s party in attempt to get some sugar. Jean chuckled quietly, shaking his head slightly.

**From: Conn-star**

**_So r u going or nah_ **

Well, if his friends were going, it couldn’t be that bad. Jean typed his answer, backspacing, then typing it again two more times before he sent the text.

**To: Conn-star**

**_Yah. Carpool with you then? I’ll pay for parking._ **

Jean hoped he wouldn’t regret going to Marco’s party.


	2. There's A He-Wolf In the Closet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's yacht party turns out to be more than Jean expected, with a little surprise starring Marco himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a precautionary: there IS SMUT in this chapter! If you want to skip, you may go down to the bottom notes for a summary and my thoughts. <3

Jean was completely, utterly bored. So bored out of his skull, he almost wished he could go fishing instead. What a tragedy. Jean _never_ wanted to go fishing when he wasn’t on his job. But, alas, there Jean was, at some yacht party of Marco’s; he didn’t think he was ever this bored in his life.

He was sitting at the side of the yacht’s pool, which was planted in the middle of the deck, swishing his feet in the water slowly while Connie splashed around in it with a bunch of the other party goers. Jean didn’t understand what the point was of having a pool on the yacht when there was the sea all around the boat. Hell, Jean couldn’t fathom what rich kids did with their money. It would probably hurt his head thinking about it.

Swinging back his drink, he took several gulps of the cheap wine in his glass. It was so weird to have wine, and Jean partially wished he went with a beer instead. No matter though, because Reiner was already walking towards him and hauling their asses to the bar. Thank god for Reiner, too, because most of the crew was huddled around there. Jean suddenly didn’t feel very alone.

“Yo, Jean.” Mylius slapped his back, grinning widely, like he took one too many shots. Knowing him, he probably did. “Decided to join the party?”

Smiling cheekily, Jean socked Mylius in the arm. “Shut up. At least I’m not as blown as you are. The night’s barely started. Where's your datemate?” he asked.

“Near the back.” Mylius pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “And I am not ‘blown’, Jean. Neither are you,”

Jean gave Mylius a half-smile, too polite to tell him that his girlfriend was getting it on with two other guys while Mylius himself was getting wasted at the bar. It wasn't his deal, anyhow.

“Dude, speaking of being blown,” Connie interrupted, finally out of the pool and leaving a sopping mess of water behind him. “Poor Jean here hasn’t gotten laid in who knows how long.” He wiped his face with a fluffy towel.

“Conn!” Did Connie really have to tell _everyone_ about Jean’s nonexistent love life?

Connie just looked at Jean with a completely straight face. “What? It’s not like it’s a secret. You complain about it every time you get drunk off your ass.”

Groaning, Jean gave in. “Yeah, so what else is new?”

Complaining had its benefits, in which he felt better after whining about how limited his dates were per year. Maybe he’d even find a nice, attractive dude at the party after, and sneak into the yacht’s closet for a quick bang. Then they could go back to Jean’s apartment and climb into the sheets, bang a little more if they wanted to.

“Don’t fret, Jean.” Reiner was the one to talk. “Just get smashed tonight, and you’ll hook up with someone in a heartbeat.”

Eren scoffed, “Yeah, someone who likes horse faces, that is.”

Jean grit his teeth at Eren’s snide comment. Of course Eren Jaeger would say such a thing. He was so _annoying_ like that. He couldn’t believe they’d been on the same fishing crew for almost a year now. He was surprised they both were still alive, having clawed at one another all those months.

“Some tequila, please.” he ordered at the bar. He schlucked the fire water, feeling it burn hot down his throat. He went on, glowering. “You shut your trap right now, Eren, unless you're looking forward to me tearing you a new asshole later.”

Eren pulled a face. “You're disgusting, man.”

“Oh my god,” Connie shuddered. “Guys, can you not taint my imagination, please? I'm getting creeped out.”

Reiner winked at Jean. “You two dudes aren't dating each other, now are you?”

Letting out fake gagging sounds, both Jean and Eren leaned over the side of the yacht, pretending to upchuck into the ocean. There was no way in hell Jean would get with Eren. They were absolutely incompatible. They already knew from failed experiments back in high school.

“I'm guessing that's a ‘no’, then.” Mylius laughed.

Eren wiped his dry mouth. “Not in a million years. Kirstein sounds like a fucking mare taking it in the ass.”

“Well, at least I _can_ take it in the ass.” Jean chided. “Unlike you,”

“Topping has its benefits.” Eren boasted. “If you're so switchable, then why are you haven't you gotten any yet?”

“I… That’s..” Jean’s neck was beginning heat up in embarrassment. “That's none of your fucking business!”

“What's not who's fucking business?”

Both Jean and Eren whipped their heads around from their seats at the bar. Shit. They had been overheard. Overhead by none other than their boss’s son. Jean just prayed hard in his head, hoping someone above would hear his pleas for help.

“Hey, Marco.” Connie greeted him with a friendly attitude, but received a snarl from the other.

“Was I talking to you, cue-ball head?” Marco didn't wait for Connie's reply. “No? Good. Then skedaddle. I'm trying to speak to Jean.”

“More like speak _at_ Jean,” Connie muttered.

Marco placed his hands on his cocked hips. “ _Ex-cuse_ me?” His mouth was pressed into a thin line, as if he was losing patience with the world. He probably was.

“Nothing.” Connie warbled, “Going, I'm going. See y’all at the pool.” He threw a peace sign at his crew before fleeing the scene.

“Yeah, uh,” Mylius smiled sheepishly at Jean. “I should, like, check up on my date. See you around…?”

 _Oh, not Mylius, too._ Jean groaned internally. Why was everyone leaving him alone with Marco? Jean waved reluctantly at Mylius, who was already booking it away from the bar. “‘Kay.” He was in for a night of doom.

“So Jean, what the hell’s up, arguing with Eren at _my party_?” Marco stuck out his lower lip, expecting an answer.

“Nothing is up, Marco.” sighed Jean. “Right, Eren?”

But Eren had already left, diving into the pool after Reiner. Jean’s entire crew had left him as soon as Marco walked in. Jean felt a sinking feeling in his gut, instantly dreading the ever thinking he was friends with his crew; why did they treat him like this, throwing him to Marco like chum so they could escape? It was completely unfair that Jean had to deal with Marco by himself.

Jean’s heart rose to his throat as Marco drew closer to him. He hadn’t noticed he was leaning away from his boss’s son until his back hit the bar counter, stopping him in his tracks. He was like a deer caught in the headlights, dumbstruck by that mischievous smirk upon Marco’s lips.

“Looks like it’s just you and me now, hm?” Marco said in a low voice, his face so close to Jean’s that Jean was certain he could smell the reek of vodka on the tip of Marco’s tongue. It was dangerous. “How ‘bout we talk a little about your hook-up problem in a more,” Oh god, was that Marco’s fingers climbing up Jean’s arm? Jean felt as if he was going to faint. Or push Marco away. Either one. “Private place?”

Jean gulped.

Nervous butterflies spliced his insides, making him ever-the-more flustered. Should he follow Marco into the yacht’s cabin? Then again, did he have a choice? Jean watched as Marco took his wrist and pulled him along.

“What’s in it for me?” he questioned, playing hard to get. His palms were sweating profusely, legs like cooked, wet noodles, barely keeping him standing.

Marco side-eyed him, his snooty attitude showing clearly on his face. But, just as Jean braced himself for a chew-out session from his boss’s son, he was taken aback by the words whispered into his ear.

“I showed Annie a good time, so why not you too?”

Jean gasped, a lightning strike of arousal shooting down his spine and toward his groin. Marco’s words were hot and moist against the shell of his ear, and he shivered. Was Marco offering him what he thought he was offering him?

“A-annie Leonhardt?” Jean finally got his mouth to move.

Marco drew back from Jean’s ear to look him in the eyes, his gaze almost piercing Jean’s soul through eye contact. “ _The_ Annie Leonhardt.” he smirked.

Annie was deemed one of the hardest-to-get women in all of Trost. She would always show up at functions like Marco’s, but always went home alone… as alone as she could get with a bodyguard in tow. There was no way Marco had snaked his way into Annie’s panties without her bodyguard kicking his ass first.

Or could he? Marco was, after all, not only attractive, but also terribly good at getting what he wanted.

Before Jean could give any more thought on Marco’s rendezvous with Annie, he was being shoved into the yacht’s cabin and away from the mass of party-goers. He found himself slammed against a wall as Marco closed the doors. Jean glanced around, realizing that Marco had brought them into a closet. It was dark, save for the little light shining through the crack at the bottom of the doors.

“Marco..?” Jean gulped, his hands shaking slightly from the excitement and arousal coursing through his veins. He squinted when Marco turned the flashlight on his brand-new iPhone, placing it on the floor next to him so they could see.

“Yes, Jean.”

Jean swore he was going to faint. Marco was pressing kisses on his cheek, his nose, trailing down to his chin, then up to his lips. Fighting his urge to comply, Jean responded minimally, keeping his arms still even though they strained to wrap around his boss’s son’s waist; maybe grab at that tantalizing ass, too.

The kiss was hurried and sloppy, teeth clinking together. Marco had his arms around Jean, hands feeling up all of his back, sliding down along his spine, only for fingers to climb back up and grip the back of Jean’s neck. Nibbling on his lip, Marco diligently licked his way into the fisherman’s mouth, tongue exploring and running over new territory.

Jean nearly startled himself as a moan slipped from his throat; it was muffled within both his and Marco's mouths. He felt Marco's tongue slither under his and trace his gums, the inside of his jaw. How was this possible? Jean was so weak, bending to Marco’s will without any resistance. He just didn’t allow himself to indulge in touching, unlike Marco, who was currently pulling up the hem of Jean’s shirt to feel Jean’s now flaming skin.

Carefully, those hands of Marco's ghosted from Jean's back to his hips, squeezing slightly, then pressed flat against his firm, toned stomach. Jean’s stomach caved in suddenly, his back bowing, as if he was trying to get away. Marco frowned when Jean broke the kiss, leaving them near breathless.

“Mm, Marco, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Jean said, red to his ears. He held his boss’s son’s wrists, jerking it away from his body. Now that he wasn’t being touched anymore, he relaxed, letting his stomach fill out once again and his back straighten.

Marco gave him a smoldering look, as if he was teasing Jean, testing the waters that had already been dipped in. “When did a so-called, little ‘bad idea’ stop me?” Jean swore Marco had winked at him.

Shaking off his grip, Marco went down to his knees, still peering up at Jean, never breaking contact with the other as he reached for Jean’s waistband. This time, the fisherman didn’t stop him, instead gnawing hard on his lower lip and trying to control his shallow breathing. Marco was free to do what he wanted; his deft fingers tucked themselves beneath the fabric, feeling the smooth skin above Jean’s firm muscles. Deciding to proceed further, Marco opened his mouth above the tent in Jean’s shorts, breathing hot puffs of air onto it.

Jean choked, unable to take his eyes off the sight that was Marco. Marco, his boss’s son, the one he had a _huge_ stinkin’ man-crush on, was on his knees in front of him, pulling down his shorts and dropping them to his ankles. He wasn’t expecting Marco to shove down his boxers, too, however.

 _Goddamn,_ his mind was hazy with lust, making it hard to think. He wanted Marco to, to… to _suck him off _. So much. _But I can’t!_ he denied himself. _He’s my boss’s son!___

__Jean tried to hide, but realized that Marco was already staring at him, at his twitching, excited half-chub. The tips of his ears burned with embarrassment, shame that he was exposed to someone such as Marco. He gulped, suddenly dry-mouthed as he witnessed Marco lick his own plush lips._ _

__“A little eager, aren’t we?” His boss’s son grinned, a promiscuous glint shining in his dark eyes. He palmed over Jean’s growing erection, giggling when the clear liquid of Jean’s precome spread over his skin. The fisherman just grit his teeth together, hips jerking from the touch. “Mmm, I like,”_ _

___Fuck_. Jean was totally not expecting Marco to suddenly lay a hand on (and _over_ ) his cock, smearing his fluids over his palm like that. He certainly didn’t expect Marco opening his mouth and engulfing his thick cock in one go, either._ _

__“Mar-hnngh,” Jean drew his lips together, trying to quiet himself, in fear that someone was going to catch them. He panted aloud, though, desperately drawing air into his lungs. It was scorching hot and _so_ wet in Marco’s mouth._ _

__Marco had even caught himself by surprise, almost swallowing Jean’s massive girth. He had put too much in all at once, unable to resist any longer. Jean’s cock felt heavy on his tongue, felt so hard and good, and just _so right_ for it to be in his mouth. He drew his tongue along the bottom side of it, tracing the vein to the tip, then flicked at the slit as he bobbed his head up. Marco moaned when the saltiness of Jean’s precome overwhelmed his taste buds, and he wanted more. It was an addicting flavor. He sank down on that cock, going a bit too far, until Jean’s cock hit the back of his throat, causing him to choke. Still, he didn’t let up, instead feeling a rush of lightheadedness as he fellated Jean, determination to make the fisherman come driving his actions._ _

__If not for a hand clasped over his lips, Jean would have screamed when Marco’s throat suddenly convulsed around him. It was a completely new experience, something that he’d never be able to live without after tonight. God, could Marco _deepthroat_. He looked so hot sucking on a big, fat cock like Jean’s, moaning and choking around it like an adult actor Jean had only seen in Hancock Studio’s porn before._ _

__Jean never wanted this to stop. His free arm began to move, threading his fingers in Marco’s dark, gelled locks. His hips began to rock to Marco’s rhythm, pushing in deeper and further, not caring if he was being too rough. His head was swimming; Jean was unable to think of anything but Marco and his glorious mouth wrapped around Jean’s cock. What a mighty sight it was, especially when Marco seemed to be enjoying it as much as Jean was._ _

__Tears pricked the corners of Marco’s eyes as Jean fucked up into his mouth, thrusting rough and sloppy. Undoing the zip of his pants, Marco grasped his own cock, stroking it furiously as he let Jean take control. He was going to come soon but, thankfully, it looked like Jean wasn’t very behind._ _

__Arousal burned bright in the pit of Jean’s belly, and the fisherman was doing his best not to release his load down Marco’s throat. As much as he wanted to make Marco swallow his seed, he was probably sure he wouldn’t hear the end of his boss’s son’s complaining after. He wasn’t sure what to do but hold back, as Marco was back to jamming Jean’s cock deep into his mouth._ _

__“Marco,” he whined, voice barely above a whisper. “I c-can’t. I’m gonna,”_ _

__Suddenly, Marco yanked himself off Jean’s engorged member, inhaling dramatically as he stroked Jean’s cock with a tight grip. He aimed it at his own face, his tongue lolling out from his mouth. Jean shut his eyes, squeezing them tight as the sight of Marco jerking him off proved to be too much._ _

__An electrifying pulse ran through Jean’s body, running along even the most minute of nerves, shocking his system in the most pleasant way as his mind was lost in space, his body jerking on its own. Thick, pearly liquid sprayed from his cock, getting all over Marco, Marco’s hand, and his shirt._ _

__It felt so good. Jean was still floating down from Cloud Nine slowly as he blinked at the sight of his boss’s son covered in his essence. He felt boneless, his extremities a bit frazzled from the powerful orgasm, but it was the most satisfied he’d been in a long time._ _

__The first spurt caught Marco off guard, Jean’s come splattering on his chin initially before a second wave came. It was stronger than the last, the milky substance landing on his left cheek, covering his eyebrow, and dripping down to his eye. Marco closed his left eye, letting Jean come all over his face, his lips stretched open to catch the weaker strings of seed on his tongue._ _

__“Holy shit, Marco.” Jean wheezed, his breath slowly returning back to a more normal pace. He groaned as he watched his boss’s son rub Jean’s come into his skin, scooping it up with his fingers. He watched, completely hypnotized, as Marco sucked the fluid from his fingers into this mouth and presented it gathered on his devilish, pink tongue._ _

__Jean almost passed out when Marco drew his tongue back in, closing his mouth to swallow, only to open it again and show that he had drunk every drop Jean had given him._ _

__“Oh, mm,” Marco moaned all too loudly but, at this point, both men were too in the zone to care. He stroked his cock furiously, constantly playing with the tip of it. “Jeannn,” he whined, back hunching as the pressure inside him built to the level of breaking._ _

__Jean fell to his knees, hands in Marco’s hair, pulling it hard as he kissed Marco hard. It took all but seconds until Marco was coming into his palm, hips thrusting wildly. He groaned into the kiss, whimpering shortly after when Jean swiped a fingertip over his sensitive anatomy. Marco leaned back, still shuddering with the effects of his orgasm, the smoldering fire in his eyes now mellowed in the small light of his phone flashlight._ _

__“M-marco,” Jean started, but Marco hushed him, crawling into Jean’s lap without warning._ _

__He pulled out a pack of tissues from his pocket, cleaning up their mess quickly. “Just hold me,” Marco then commanded, putting his arms around Jean’s torso._ _

__“But-,”_ _

__“Do it, or you’re fired.” threatened Marco. Jean did what he was told, shifting into a comfortable spot before keeping Marco in a cuddling position in the closet._ _

__He was tired and, from the looks of it, so was Marco. Jean had to be honest with himself; he’d been up and down all day, not really resting much, not really eating much, and he definitely _was not_ expecting this to happen. Getting blown seemed to be the end-all of Jean’s energy, and he couldn’t deny a little nap with Marco, even if they were at a party, in a closet where no one could find them (maybe)._ _

__Ignoring the unsettling feeling in his chest, a feeling he did not yet recognize, he let his mind drift, dozing off here and there with Marco in his arms. Jean drifted off to sleep with one unusual word floating in and out of his ears. One that he hadn’t said in years: _daddy_.__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In short, Marco overhears Jean complaining about his nonexistent love life to his crew, then takes him to a closet, where Marco gives him a one-of-a-kind beej and then gets off as well. They end up cuddling with each other and accidentally falling alseep in said closet with Jean's mind bouncing off the word "daddy" in his mind.
> 
> Yo! It's been a while, and it's my birthday! Yay me! I hope y'all are enjoying this so far, and i really hope to see all y'all in the next chapters. <3  
> Remember! I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/eyyMarcorena) and [tumblr](wear-a-reynkout.tumblr.com) if you'd like to follow/talk to me! Comments and kudos much appreciated! Thanks! x Kristi


	3. Blow Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are such complicated bastards.

_Daddy..._

He should have been a little less shocked than he happened to be. 

Jean had woken up in a nice, comfy bed, decked out in plush pillows and warm, fuzzy blankets that tickled his skin. The little port window showed that it was light outside; morning, most likely. He seemed so at peace, like nothing was wrong with the world, that nothing would bring him down today… Until he heard a snore to his right.

Turning his head towards the noise, Jean couldn't help but stare at his boss's son, who was sleeping peacefully next to him.

Marco was gorgeous. He was beautiful, more than Jean could have imagined. His hair was parted this way and that, struck with a major case of bedhead. His breathing was slow and steady, his occasional snores sawing logs every time they sounded. Those freckles of his were like cinnamon dusted upon a tan mousse, making his body look absolutely delectable.

But why was Jean comparing Marco to a type of dessert? Then again, why was Jean in a bed with his boss's son after the yacht party? Didn't they jerk off in a closet somewhere the night before? Jean groaned, his memories of last night suddenly crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

A big, audible yawn came from Marco just then, pulling Jean out of his panicking thoughts. Rolling over onto his stomach, Marco smiled lazily, propping himself up on his elbows. 

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled, yawning again. Jean hated that he loved how Marco’s nose scrunched up when he yawned. “Fuck, I slept with you?”

Gulping once, Jean moved away from his boss's son. How the hell did he get himself into this situation anyway? Where were his friends? His crew? There was just so much missing information about what happened at the party.

“I, uh,” stumbled Jean, throwing the bed sheets off him, only to realize that he was as bare as the day he was born. He blushed, feeling Marco’s eyes trail down his body, staying fixed on his man parts for a longer time than any other area of Jean.

“Mm, but you've got a nice dick.” Marco remarked, much to Jean’s bad luck. He kept staring, making Jean’s cheeks flame in red as he valiantly tried to keep himself in check. He swore under his breath when his cock twitched in interest. “Hey, where are you going?” Marco asked when Jean began to search the room for his clothes. He sat up, pushing the blankets off his adonis-like body.

Jean felt his chest ache when he noticed how deep Marco’s frown was. Looking away, he pushed his feelings down to the middle of his stomach.

He willed himself not to look too long, only admiring Marco's perfect body for only a second. “Where did you put my clothes?” Jean asked, avoiding the question and looking at everything but Marco.

Marco scowled, trying to close in on Jean like he had last night, only to be evaded by a quickstep from the fisherman. “In the closet.” he finally answered. Jean began to search for his clothing in the closet they had fumbled around in earlier. Marco put on a pout, arms folded across his chest like an upset child. “Damn, I can't remember a thing from last night.”

Jean didn't know what he was; baffled or miffed at the situation on hand. Had Marco really forgotten all he did with him? Did he not feel how probably sore his mouth was from Jean using it for pleasure? Jean didn't know if he even wanted Marco to remember last night. Throwing a shirt over his head, Jean sighed. He had to get out of here. 

But Marco had already sidled up next to him, hands sneaking into his pants.

“No, Marco. Stop it.” Jean yelped when Marco squeezed his package. He pushed the man away, scrambling for the door.

Marco huffed, clearly unamused by Jean’s diversion. “Aw, you’re no fun, Jean.” he said, but drew away from the fisherman. Picking at his cuticles, he crossed an arm over himself. “Just a little bit? Just to refresh my memory of… whatever the hell we did last night?” A faux innocent expression was painted on his face.

But Jean had had enough. His brain was too wrecked to even care about anyone’s feelings but his own. He just needed to scram before anything else happened; before he dived in too deep.

“Mm… No, thanks.” Jean smirked wryly as he headed for the exit. He was going to skedaddle. “I’m out, and I’ve got important stuff to do.”

Marco guffawed at him. Was he really being rejected the morning after? “There is _nothing_ more important than me, Jean.” He was furious. Jean could almost see the flames rising in his eyes. “For your information, I could have you fired!”

“You keep fucking lying to yourself, Marco.” Jean sneered in retaliation, “Try me. I’d love to see that.”

And he left Marco in the room, hopping off the deck and back to the dock, where he walked to a nearby cafe to call up a cab home. A sickening feeling in Jean’s gut stayed with him the entire ride.

* * *

Jean awoke, annoyed, when his phone alarm went off. Unlocking the screen hastily, he turned off the alarm, then slammed his phone back onto the nightstand. He groaned, running both hands over his face in attempt to wipe away the sleep. There was a group meeting in the office at ten, sharp; Jean wasn’t overly thrilled to interact with people so early. He needed at least a good two hours before he could speak to anyone properly, given the feelings that had launched onto his chest first thing in the morning.

 _Daddy,_ his mind brought back up. Jean wanted to smack his head against the wall. _Shut up,_ he thought to himself.

He had to use the toilet first. Relieving his bladder, he stared at the bathroom wall, observing how the paint was starting to chip from the plaster. Jean wondered when he’d get a chance to fix it, but he knew his week was about to get busier once he stepped foot into his boss’s office.

It’d been five days since he and Marco had done… _the thing_ , and he was already uneasy of seeing his boss’s son again at the meeting. Jean definitely wasn’t ready to face Marco yet. What was Marco going to do to him when they saw each other? Would he be fired right then and there? Marco _had_ said he could lay Jean’s ass off any time. And, by that, he meant it in strictly business ways. At least, that’s what Jean hoped he meant.

Jean almost choked when gurgling the mouthwash that burned his tongue and gums. He didn’t want to get laid off. If he was, he’d have to start from ground zero, and Jean didn’t want to go through any more struggle than he had now. He could handle Marco, couldn’t he?

“I don’t even know,” he muttered under his breath in response to himself. _Could_ he handle Marco?

The toaster oven dinged, snapping Jean out of his thoughts. Quickly, he slid the pizza pocket from it and onto a paper plate. It looked almost burnt, but Jean couldn’t have cared less. He was too worried about his inevitable encounter with Marco later.

Chewing on the pizza pocket halfheartedly, he switched on the TV again to watch the highlights of a soccer match that was held somewhere halfway around the world. Jean’s worried moping was interrupted when his phone rang, blasting “Baby’s Got Back” through its speakers. There was only one person he’d set that ringtone to; Connie was calling.

“What?” Jean answered the phone. He didn’t care that his mouth was half-full with food. It was Connie he was talking to, anyhow.

There was a huff from the other end of the phone. “Wow, way to greet a friend, Jean.” Connie’s voice was high and shrill this morning. “Clearly, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.”

“Whatever,” Jean rolled his eyes. “So, what’s up?”

“Well,” Connie started. “I was gonna ask you if you wanted Reiner and me to take you to the meeting but, if you’re gonna be Mr. Grumpy Lobster, I’d rather you not.”

“Come on, man. You’re so mean.” Jean grimaced.

“And you need to lighten up.”

Jean sighed. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry, alright? The party was wild the other night.”

“Oh yeah?” Connie’s voice was so high-pitched, Jean had to hold the phone away from his ear. “So you _did_ hook up with someone that night! I knew it! Reiner, give it up, man. I won the moneys.” he said in a triumphant voice.

“You two bet on me? For getting laid?” Jean was baffled. His friends could be so stupid sometimes.

There was shouting and ruckus from Connie’s line, then, “Aha, I’m twenty dollars richer now! But don’t worry, Jean. We’re so proud of you.”

Jean shook his head. “Yeah, thanks. That makes me feel real nice.” It really did not make him feel nice.

Connie laughed. “You should be happy, dude. I bet the guy you got with was suuuper hot.”

“Y-yeah,” Jean’s face felt hot all of a sudden, images of Marco’s naked body still fresh in his mind. “Something l-like that.”

“So, you want us to pick you up, Jean?” It was Reiner speaking now. He sounded like he always did.

Jean really didn’t want to take the train to the Bodt’s office today. “Sure,” he responded after a bit. “Thanks, Reiner. I really owe you one, man.”

“Hey, not a problem, bud.” Jean could hear the smile in Reiner’s tone of voice. “You’re always welcome. See you in twenty minutes? We’re gonna get some dine-in breakfast before the meeting.”

Seeing that one pizza pocket wasn’t really a substantial meal, Jean figured it was a good idea to grab some grub with his buddies. “Cool. I’ll be ready.”

“Mm’kay,” Connie slurred his words, “See ya!”

“Laters,” Jean said, then hung up.

It took his crewmates thirty minutes, but Jean couldn’t really be bothered by a ten-minute tardiness. He was just grateful to have a free ride to work. 

“Marlowe’s sound good to you?” Reiner asked. Marlowe’s was his favorite place to eat; he liked to support his friend, Marlowe, and his business. 

“Mhmm.” Jean hummed along to the tunes coming from the car speakers. He would have to ask his friend what artist this was.

Thank god for friends who didn't seem to pry into what happened the night of the party. Jean had kept everything on the down low, just admitting, over breakfast, that he has a little fumble with someone from the gig.

“It was a dude,” Jean confirmed.

“Obviously.” Connie stated, “I don't think you could go for a girl even if you two were the only surviving beings on this planet.”

“Oh, oh,” Reiner piped up, which had both Connie and Jean staring at him with a confused look. “What if the girl was also gay, though? Then it'd be even more awkward.”

Connie laughed, “Well, wouldn't that be a TV show I'd like to watch.”

Jean stabbed at his scrambled eggs. “Can we change the subject? Please?” He needed more Tabasco on his food.

“Sure, sure,” Reiner huffed. Jean was no fun, he thought. “So, what do you think the big boss is calling all of us in for today?”

* * *

“Boys, we had a really big catch the last time.” boasted Mr. Bodt as he leaned back in his genuine leather seat. His tie was slightly off to the side, yet he looked spectacular for this time of day… of which Jean thought was still too early.

The fishing crew murmured their thanks to their boss’s praise. All the while, Jean couldn’t stop staring at his boss’s son, who stood next to his father, as quiet as a mouse. That was just _so_ unlike Marco.

“Now, Jean, Eren,” Mr. Bodt spoke. Both of his employees straightened their spines; Eren gulped nervously as he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. What did they do to be called out by their boss? “Marco told me you two retrieved his cell phone after it went overboard.” Jean stopped himself from biting his lower lip. He shivered a bit, taking in a slow breath to steady himself. “I want to thank you for helping him. It means a lot to me.”

 _What did he say?!_ Jean stared.

And stared.

And stared some more.

If he didn’t look so ridiculous doing it, he would have attempted cleaning out his ear with a pinky finger. Instead, he just gawked at his boss’s words, watching as Marco’s face unfolded into a gaudy smile. What the hell was up Marco’s sleeves this time?

“I’d love to treat you out for lunch,” Marco grinned wider. “Today, shortly after this meeting.”

Oh no. Jean didn’t want to go on a lunch date with his boss’s son! Surely, Eren didn’t want to, either.

“Marco…” Mr. Bodt looked at his son with mild surprise on his face.

“But Dad..!” he whined. “I’d be a good person if I take them out to lunch, right?”

Jean swore Marco batted his eyelashes. This was so painful to watch, he thought. Even if there was free food, he just didn’t want to be near Marco again. Not when he wasn’t working, at least. Bit and pieces of the previous night made Jean cringe inside.

Eren was already declining Marco’s _nice gesture_ , “Uh, I’d love to, but I’m tied up in some stuff I need to do, Marco.” He glanced around the room. “Thanks, though. I’m sure _Jean_ would love to go to lunch with you.”

“Wonderful.” Marco kept his smile, eyes zoned in on Jean, who was currently chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Any requests for tomorrow’s cuisine, Jean?”

“N-no crab,” the fisherman joked, his voice strained. He did his best not to move a muscle. “I’ve seen enough of those crustaceans this season.”

Mr. Bodt let out a snort, laughing. Marco’s smile just seemed to become more sly as the seconds passed.

“Sure, Jean.” Jean watched Marco’s lips form his name, swallowing shallowly at the sight of it. “Whatever you’d like,”

“One more thing, boys.” Mr. Bodt said. Marco kept his eyes fixed on Jean as his father spoke, never faltering in his smile. “We’ve got a new navigator next time ‘round. He’s very intelligent, and I think you all will like him.” The boss looked over his shoulder, motioning the new crew member over with his chin. “Welcome, Armin.”

The first thing Jean and his crewmates saw was a mop of blond hair pulled back into a short man-bun. Armin was a scrawny thing compared to everyone else in the room, and Jean wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if the windbreakers they tended to wear on the ship were like dresses on the new navigator.

Armin had big, blue eyes that shone like the sky. His skin looked soft to the touch, with a peachy pink tone. His nose was small and cute, lips small yet expressive as he beamed at his new crewmates.

“Nice to meet you.” Armin greeted them, and Jean heard Eren suck in a breath quite abruptly. Jean sniggered at the thought that his rival had a crush on the blonde. “I look forward to working with you all.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Bodt spoke for the crew. “It’s a pleasure to have you here.”

Jean was relieved he didn’t have to say anything, but there was still a knot forming in his belly. He didn’t want to be here. Hell, he didn’t even feel comfortable here, not when Marco was in the room.

Jean moved from his spot, excusing himself to use the restroom. He ran fast as soon as he got out to the hallway, dashing to the bathroom. Locking himself into a toilet stall, he tried to calm his nerves. There were butterflies splicing his insides, his heart beating so fast that he wouldn’t be surprised if he had cardiac arrest in the next few minutes.

 _What is wrong with me?_ Jean gnawed on the corner of his lip.

Why was he being such a nervous wreck? Obviously, this had nothing to do with Armin joining the team. In fact, it was a relief that Jean and his crewmates were getting another member; someone Mr. Bodt trusted, at that.

_But I want..._

“Please,” whispered Jean to himself. “Just stop.”

He sat on the toilet seat, face hidden in the palms of his hands. Maybe he would just wait here until the meeting was finished. He could probably wait it out for that long, then ask his buddies what was discussed while he was in the restroom. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. But how was Jean going to wheedle his way out of a lunch date with the boss’s son?

 _I could text Reiner to wait up for me after, then sneak out before Marco finds me…Wait. No, that’d be suspicious._ Jean sighed. _Forget Reiner and Connie waiting for me. They’ll just ditch me with Marco again._

_New plan: Wait until the meeting is said to be over, stay an extra fifteen minutes, then sneak out of the building and walk to a bus stop to take me home._

Jean checked his phone, realizing that he’d taken so much time thinking about his escape plan that the meeting was already over. So much for calming his nerves. He felt even more anxious than before. At least he had a game plan. It seemed to work well enough in his head. Perhaps, he could get away from Marco until the next fishing trip. He would just ignore any texts Marco sent him, if at all, and blame it on bad reception in his area.

Slipping quietly out of the men’s room, Jean began to feel ridiculous as he tiptoed down the stairs, not trusting himself to use the elevator. It was a little creepy, racing down staircase after staircase like he was fleeing from some evil corporation’s lab. He scoffed a bit, shaking his head clear of that absurd idea; that would make for such a good science fiction. He would have to write that down on his computer later, if he remembered.

His legs were burning by the time he reached the exit door, his pulse rate escalated from the little workout. Jean was so ready for a nap, and figured he could catch one on the ride home. Reaching for the door handle, he jumped back when the handle turned by itself, the door opening wide.

_What the actual fuck?_

“Had a good time in the restroom, Jean?” Marco stood in front of the fisherman, the same devilish smirk on his face Jean saw five nights ago. Jean shuddered, closing his mouth, of which he didn’t know was even open. To Jean’s grace, Marco was already speaking so didn’t have to. “Come on, I’ve got a lunch reservation at Kriezis with you.” Marco took Jean’s forearm, pulling him towards the parking lot.

Jean blinked slowly. “Kriezis?” He allowed himself to be dragged, his mind still screaming Red Alert as he took in the fact that Marco had caught him playing hookie.

“The restaurant I want to take you, dimwit.” Marco let out an exasperated puff, stopping at his brand new Porsche, unlocking it with a press of his key fob. “Get in the car, honey.”

Jean cringed a bit, but did as he was told, eyebrows lifting when he saw how sleek the car’s interior was. It was a beautiful thing. It must have cost millions. He couldn’t help but run his fingers over the black dashboard in front of him.

“Like it?” Marco asked, starting up the car. He backed out of his parking spot with ease, barely looking over his shoulder. “I got in matte black.”

“... I think it’s nice.” Jean finally admitted. He did _not_ want to make parlor talk with his boss’s son.

Marco laughed. “I think it looks _sexy_.” He glanced at Jean, giving him a sly look before focusing back on the road.

The two men don’t speak again until they’ve arrived at the front of Kriezis, where the valet boys rush to help Jean and Marco out of the car. Marco handed one of them his keys, firmly instructing him to be careful with his Porsche. The valet boy nodded, looking as if he was used to Marco treating him like a servant.

“This is my favorite place to go for Mediterranean food.” Marco gushed as he and Jean were seated at a table for two. “They’ve got so many good dishes.” He set his elbows on the table, propping his chin up with a hand. “Do you like Mediterranean, Jean?”

“Mhmm,” Jean looked down at his lap.

“ _Whale_ ,” Did Marco just make a sea pun? Jean’s head snapped up to study Marco’s lips. He must have been hearing things. “Take a look at the menu. And don’t worry,” Marco tilted his head slightly. “You don’t have to dine with your own pocket. Just order whatever you’d like.”

“O-okay,” Jean scratched at an imaginary itch behind his ear, and opened up the menu.

“It’s okay to be _shellfish_ sometimes, you know.”

Alright. Jean was definitely not misunderstanding things; Marco was making fish puns _at the table_. He wanted to chuckle, but was still so shaken from being caught by the emergency stairs. There were comeback puns on the tip of his tongue, but he held them in, too afraid to say anything back to his boss’s son.

A waiter came to swing by and take their order.

“I’ll have the falafel plate with the…” Marco gazed directly into Jean’s eyes as he continued, “Eggplant baba ganoush as appetizer.”

Jean hadn’t realized he’d been pursing his lips until the waiter asked him what Jean wanted from the menu. Quickly, he tried not to stutter, “I, um, the kofte platter, please.” He wiped his sweating hands on his pants when the waiter was out of sight. He set his wrists on the edge of the table, doing his best to contain himself.

“I like what you chose, Jean.” Marco smiled. He looked particularly gorgeous in the dim lighting of the restaurant. Jean cursed at himself internally for noticing that.

“Thanks,” He kept his reply simple.

But Marco wanted to push him further, because he was no longer holding his chin on his palm. No, now he was reaching toward Jean, placing his right hand on the fisherman’s left. His fingers felt warm on Jean’s skin. They were soft, unlike Jean’s own. They had no freckles but, as Jean’s eyes traveled up to Marco’s wrist and forearm, he could see the unique pattern of cinnamon-like specks. If Marco didn’t want to use him and ridicule him after, Jean would have thought this would be a perfect time to steal a kiss from Marco’s lush lips. His heart still ached from the yacht party incident.

“Jean… Are you a dolphin?” Marco’s question made Jean sit back.

“What?” he was about to ask, but not before Marco continued.

“Because I _loved_ that blowhole of yours the other night.”

Jean didn’t know whether or not he wanted to laugh or cry. Marco was being wonky with him, when Jean was doing his best to show as little emotion for the guy. He did his best to conceal how much he was utterly crushing on this snobby rich kid.

Closing his eyes for a long second, he breathed in deep, wrenching his hand away from Marco’s. “I’m sorry, Marco,” He had no clue why he was apologizing to someone who didn’t need it, but Jean couldn’t care less at that moment. “But I can’t do this. Not with you. Not with anyone like you. I can’t. I…” Jean pushed his chair back, walking away without finishing his sentence.

His eyes were beginning to sting, but they kept dry as he stalked out to the street. Jean felt like such a mess, his emotions fighting one another in his belly. He wondered how he was going to get home. What would happen after leaving Marco in the restaurant? Surely, he’d be fired the day after tomorrow.

He was halfway down the block when his wrist shoulder was snagged by a large hand. Jean panicked, ready to scream, when he heard Marco’s voice.

“God, Jean, just, just fucking stop for a second!” Marco shouted, turning Jean around with strength Jean never knew the rich kid had. “What’s up with you?” It was like Marco didn’t know how utterly fed up Jean was with him… with how much he liked Marco.

They stared at each other for a long time. Jean didn’t move; couldn’t. He was too frozen, staring straight into Marco’s eyes. They stood there, chests heaving up and down.

Jean really wanted to punch Marco in the face.

Or kiss him.

Their mouths met in a frenzy, Jean’s tongue shoving its way into Marco’s hot cavern, the brunette’s teeth dragging over it as he hadn’t opened his jaw wide quickly enough. Jean fists were clenching at Marco’s shirt sleeves, bunching up the fabric as he pulled him close. When their crotches bumped each other by accident, Jean couldn’t help but let out a muted moan.

Marco broke their kiss, his face a pretty shade of red. “Car,” he managed to say. “Not here. Let’s get back to the car.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Olé olé olé, I finally posted this chapter! I apologize it for being so darned late; I moved into a new flat that overlooks the bayou, and work has been CRAZY. It's holiday shopping season, which means I'll be sleep deprived until the new year (oh, whoopie).  
> There's **smut** in the next chapter, so if you're not comfortable with that, then you don't have to read chapter 4! I'll leave a summary in the end notes for you to read over.  
>  Will Jean and Marco finally get together? What about the word "daddy" floating in Jean's mind?  
> Find out! In the next chapters!  
> xoxo Kristi


	4. Pick-Up Porsche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco and Jean get it on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is all smut! So, if you're not comfortable with that, please read the summary at the end in the notes section!

Gulping, Jean nodded at Marco's request. He had asked for more. For _that thing_. If they were going to fumble with each other, it might as well be in Marco’s expensive Porsche. Surely, it would be better than getting arrested for having sex out on the sidewalk.

The two men all but ran to the valet, Marco demanding for his car as soon as he was in sight of the boys on duty. Jean kept his head down, not wanting anyone to see his lips, for they were kiss-swollen and shiny from his abrupt make out with Marco just moments before. It was embarrassing, he thought, yet _so hot_.

“Get in the Porsche,” Marco commanded Jean, face stoic except for the flush to his cheeks and forehead.

Jean hopped into the passenger’s seat, nervous, no, excited to his toes. So excited, in fact, that he was practically vibrating in his spot. His tongue felt odd in his mouth, like its purpose was to doing anything except talk. He rubbed his fingers together, his rough calluses dragging against one another. He _had_ to do something; the arousal in his body was driving him crazy.

The Porsche’s wheels squealed on the asphalt as Marco sped away from the restaurant and to his mind’s destination. Marco stepped on the gas pedal with a lead foot, vision zoned in only on the road ahead of him. Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he squeezed at the growing bulge in his pants. He regretted wearing such tight bottoms. It was so uncomfortable, no matter how good it made his ass look.

Jean gritted his teeth as he watched Marco relieve himself of some pressure, his tongue swiping a wet streak over his lower lip. He knew he wasn’t thinking right but, fuck all, he just needed Marco; unbuckling the seatbelt he didn’t even realize he’d been wearing in the first place, the fisherman leaned over the gear shift, face directly in front of Marco’s arousal.

“Jean?”

Jean did not reply verbally, instead bringing his hand to ghost over the big bulge in the other’s pants. Marco whimpered slightly when Jean fingered at the zipper. It was so dangerous; if Marco didn’t concentrate hard enough, they could end up in double disaster, and he definitely didn’t want his Porsche to become a crushed Coke can if he crashed. He shuddered, Jean’s teeth pulling down the zipper. He could see how impatient Jean was, pulling down the waistband of Marco’s briefs, earning a hiss from the brunette as his dick was freed to the open air.

It was so pink and plush and utterly, utterly perfect. It was like nothing Jean had ever seen. Jean’s mouth began to water just looking at it, and he couldn’t help but wrap his lips around the head of Marco’s cock.

“Fuck!” Marco’s hips jerked in surprise. He kept a firm grip on the wheel, swallowing down the rest of his short cries when Jean began to lick over the tip of his dick. His eyes kept flicking from the road to Jean’s head in his lap, watching in glimpses as Jean began to suck his cock slowly.

The salty taste of Marco's precome exploded on Jean's taste buds. It was addicting; he wanted all that he could get. It was as if Jean was drunk off the lust coursing through him, like he couldn't control himself from blowing the other man in the car. His conscience was screaming at him, but Jean couldn't care less. He was giving Marco head, and he loved every second of it. Diving in deeper, Jean sunk down to the base, almost gagging around Marco's girth when the tip bumped the back of his throat. 

Marco let out a breathy moan as he drove into his garage, parking it with haste so he could look down at Jean, who was busy deepthroating his cock. His warm, wet mouth was incredible, slicking up and down Marco's member smoothly, almost languidly.

Marco clicked his tongue, undoing his seatbelt. “God, you are so good at this.”

Jean pulled off to breathe, peering up at his boss’s son almost daringly. “Marco,” he murmured, moist lips brushing along the length of Marco’s erection. Marco’s cock twitched upwards from the action.

“Out of the car,” Marco ground out, “Now.” He was not about to let his control on the situation slip now.

Jean kept silent, fumbling his way out of his seat, and exited the car. The garage was huge, he saw, starting in awe at the five other cars Marco seemed to own in his collection. But, before he could gawk any more, he was slammed against the side of the black Porsche. Air hitched in his throat as Marco pressed up against him, grinding his hard dick into Jean’s clothed ass.

“Do it back to me.” he growled, breath hot against the shell of Jean’s ear. If that wasn’t tempting, Jean didn’t know what was. “Come on, Jean. Show me how much you hate me.”

 _I don’t hate you_ , Jean couldn’t make himself say. Instead, he gathered his strength, his anger, his _annoyance_ , turning around to shove Marco off him. Grabbing both of Marco’s wrists, he side-stepped into the same position they had been in, this time with Marco pushed onto the Porsche.

Marco let out a moan, his cheek against the car’s hood as he bent forward, back arched so he could stick his ass up. Jean gulped at the sight; saliva was pooling under his tongue as he placed his hands on the brunette’s hips, gripping them firmly. His fingers itched to shuck Marco’s pants off, at least to his knees, and reveal that seemingly perfect bubble butt of his. Jean blinked several times, attempting to steel himself.

“Mmm, yes.” groaned Marco, hips rotating in a circle on Jean’s own. “Let me...” The fisherman did as he was told, loosening it a little as he watched Marco reach back and slide his pants down, along with his boxers, down; they slid down to ankles as the brunette shuffled to spread his legs a bit. “Now tighten them… Jean.” Squeezing Marco’s plush hips, Jean sucked in air as he heard the brunette say, “Ay, that’s _perfect_ -,” Marco cut himself off with a high-pitched whine, stroking himself harshly, quickly, for a second. “Jean, Jean, come on. Give me it.”

Jean couldn’t help but notice how badly Marco wanted Jean to do something, anything, like he wanted him to spank him, panting his name as he swiveled his ass this way and that. But right now was no time to analyze the situation at hand completely. Testing the waters, Jean drew his right hand away from Marco’s hip, winding it gently, before laying it right on the brunette’s round ass cheek.

_Smack!_

“Ah!” Marco yelped, immediately keening for more. The slap stung on his skin, burning the outline of Jean’s hand on his ass. “What was that for?” He turned, struggling to look over his shoulder at the fisherman, a smug smirk clearly playing on his face.

Jean could feel the rush of blood surging to his groin, and his balls clenched, just slightly, in arousal. He was extremely turned on by Marco, more than satisfied with his boss’s son’s reaction to a teasing spank. It sent a thrill through his body. He wondered what else he could do, what he could get away with. Would Marco enjoy Jean taking a paddle to his behind? It made Jean shake with excitement as he imagined putting the brat in place with a little discipline.

But was this okay? Marco was not a child and, from what Jean knew, Marco thought he hated him. Hated him to the bone, though? No, not a chance. In fact, Jean felt the complete opposite for the brunette. Insecurity settled over him. He might have taken his man crush a little too far, but Jean wanted to say he actually was _very_ attracted to Marco. Like, love-attracted. Sexually.

“Again, _p-_ ,” Again, Marco stopped himself, rerouting the sentence, “Jean. Again.” He wiggled a little in Jean’s grasp, inviting Jean to spank him once more.

Snarling, Jean brought his hand away from Marco, then laid it on him, harder this time. The sound of Jean’s palm hitting Marco’s ass reverberated in the massive garage, Marco’s shout of shock complimenting it in echo.

A broken moan came. “Yes! Again!” the boss’s son demanded.

God, Jean was so _hard_ , his cock straining in his pants. He was putting his mark on Marco, turning his bottom a bright red from each slap. He didn’t know how much more he could take before he, and Marco, came from just this.

Jean spanked Marco again and again, not letting up until Marco's ass was a bright, fire engine red that looked, in Jean's opinion, so good on him. Only when he heard the freckled man let out a strangled, almost painful noise did he stop.

Did he go too far?

“Uhn…” Marco's head hung forward, his shoulders hunched. He looked so defeated, so submissive, but only for a second; when Marco tilted his head to look at Jean, there was a feisty shine in his eyes. “You're going to need a lot more if you want to even _come close_ to breaking me.” It was like Marco had read his doubtful mind.

_SMACK!_

Jean slapped Marco’s ass hard, drawing all the breath out of Marco’s lungs; Marco’s scream was so loud, he was sure his neighbors could hear it… That is, if he had neighbors near him.

“Is that hard enough for you?” Jean growled, squeezing the brunette’s cock at the base, getting a shudder from Marco in return.

_Smack, smack, smack!_

He gave three more consecutive slaps, and was sure that Marco had tears in his eyes from the pain. Jean had no idea where this roughness from himself came from. It concerned him yet, at the same time, he couldn’t give a damn. Marco had asked for this and, for all the times he pushed Jean around, some could say he rightfully deserved such treatment.

“Good, so _goood_.” moaned Marco. His cheek was smooshed against the car roof, and his lungs burned from heaving so hard. Saliva threatened to flood his palate. “Turn me around.” he said, delighted when Jean obliged, almost chest-to-chest with him when they were facing one another. Marco studied the fisherman’s gold-hazel eyes quickly before demanding, “Suck my dick, Jean.”

Jean didn’t talk back, couldn’t. Marco’s instructions were like aphrodisiac to his ears; he fell to a crouch. It was the least he could do, sucking off his boss’s son. He took the base of the flesh in his hand, the other playing with the vein at the underside of it. His tongue licked slowly at Marco’s slit, precome piling onto Jean’s silvery-pink tongue.

Marco’s face was ablaze. “Stop it.” he jeered, but there was no disapproval in his voice. He moaned loudly, mouth open in surprise when Jean began to cram Marco’s cock into his mouth.

Marco Bodt’s cock was _nice_. Jean couldn’t deny it. It was long and pretty, with a small head and leaking tip that Jean’s tongue seemed to slip over unconsciously from time to time. It tasted as fine as it looked, blushing a peachy to almost dusky rose color closer to the head. Jean could only worship Marco’s dick. It was like something Jean needed to do; to suck Marco off almost came naturally to him. He was thrilled, almost, blowing the boss’s son with earnest as Marco resisted to rock his hips up to the motion Jean had created. Jean flattened his hands against the start of Marco’s thick thighs, pressing them down to prevent Marco from doing so.

It felt messy, so slick and hot in Jean’s mouth. Marco almost had no words to describe it. Jean obviously knew what he was doing, and really didn’t need any coaching like the brunette thought he would. Had Marco never noticed how _gay_ Jean really was? Not that it mattered to him. Jean’s leg muscles were burning now from his position, but he didn’t stop fellating Marco, instead using that pain to fuel him as he aimed to applied more suction, his tongue tracing patterns along the brunette’s sex. Marco let out a hiss, shoving Jean off him.

Jean barely had enough time to catch himself, tailbone crashing onto the hard cement of the garage, before Marco was climbing all over his body. He winced, but was too distracted by the body contact happening. Their teeth clinked together, lips smashing one another and moving against each other, tongues dancing violently to a tribal beat that was produced by their hearts pounding in their chests. Marco’s hands were everywhere on Jean, practically ripping the clothes from the fisherman’s body. His own pants were kicked off in the process. Marco broke the kiss to remove his shirt.

“God, Jean,” he mewled, grinding his hips with Jean’s. They were completely bare now, Jean’s milky skin contrasting with Marco’s own bronzed complexion.

Three fingers crawled towards Jean’s mouth, digging into swollen lips until the fisherman granted access. He coated them in his saliva, licking and moaning around them. Was he going to spread his legs for his boss’s son? He couldn’t care at this point. Jean was already on the ground, with the son of one of the richest companies in the world writhing above him.

Marco’s chuckle sounded strained, coming from his chest up. “You really want this, don’t you?” he asked rhetorically, not giving Jean any time to respond. “Just as much as I want it, too.” He took his fingers back, humming contentedly as he examined the copious amount of spit slicking up his digits.

Jean shifted a little, getting prepared to bend his back and give Marco better access. He was stopped though, gasping, with wide eyes when he saw what Marco really had in mind.

Marco fell forward onto one elbow, ass high in the air, those slippery fingers that had just been in Jean’s mouth reaching behind the brunette. Marco was going to _finger himself_ , Jean’s brain noticed a little too late. The fisherman let out a little groan. And the brunette was going to finger himself while lying _on top of_ Jean as well.

 

“Marco,” Jean gave a tiny whimper when Marco slid both their cocks together. The friction was hot, hard, amazing; he needed more. More of everything before his conscience decided to override his pleasure and make him feel guilt for feeling such a thing. Rolling up his hips, he added to the sparks of ecstasy between them.

Marco’s head hung low, mouth open in a tad, enough to let out the moans that his fingers wrenched from his body. He craved cock, specifically _Jean’s_ cock, not Marco’s own fingers. However, given what the circumstances were, with them rutting on ground of the garage with no condoms or lube within reach, this would just have to do. Marco keened, whining low in his throat when his fingertips brushed against his sweet spot. His dick gave a twitch in retaliation, surging up towards his stomach before bobbing back down to normal aroused height.

“Sensitive,” Jean gruffed, breath shuddering through his nose as he watched both their erections slide together.

This was nowhere near perfect, with technique being sloppy and their location being _not in a bed_ and Marco finger-fucking himself rather than Jean being the one to do it, but Jean loved it. Every second seemed to be burned into his memory like a DVD, all sounds and what sight remembered subconsciously for (hopefully) future reference. Reaching with his dominant hand, he grasped Marco’s and his cock in a tight circle, pulling it up, right before the tip, before bringing it down to their bases, where their nests of scruffy, tightly curled hair mingled with one another. From what Jean could see, Marco had even shaved nicely. The fisherman’s cheeks tinged a darker red when he compared his bush to Marco’s, noticing how unkempt he was to Marco’s perfection.

“Ah!” Marco’s hips squirmed, his cock trembling as he began to abuse his found prostate. The grip Jean had on them was amazing, so _good_ yet not enough to make him come. Not yet. He rocked back and forth, slamming himself onto his digits. His eyes drooped, half-lidded as he looked straight at Jean. “Tighter, Jean.” he said. “Make me come-,”

Jean gulped, sure he was wheezing, sounding like he was dying or something of the sort. His mind was screeching at him, all red alert systems in his brain blaring, but he couldn’t hear any of it; he was completely oblivious as he did what he was told, the circle around his and Marco’s erections narrowing until the snugness was almost too much. His strokes became erratic, pattern or rhythm no longer present, breath caught high in his throat.

Like lightning bolts racing from head to toe, Marco’s orgasm built and built. He had his fingers pressed up against his prostate now, massaging it in abandon. Pleasure rose to the top, over the brim and, just like a switch being flicked on, he came.

Marco convulsed, muscles snapping taut as the bucket of ecstasy overflowed and his cock spilled between Jean and him. It was better than any other time he'd fingered himself. It was as if he was being thrown high into the sky, tossed up into the clouds until he was on Cloud Nine. He passed it even, reaching the stars in the wide galaxy, seeing them paint the cosmos pretty patterns. He could barely breathe, puffs of air struggling through him as if it was thinned of oxygen. His hearing was muffled, like he is underwater. He wanted to reach out and touch those coral reefs of pleasure beyond him.

When he floated down from his high, he couldn't help but notice the color of Jean's eyes. They were a beautiful bourbon color, bleeding into a mossy green towards the dark black pupil. He was _gorgeous_. Something pulled at his chest, like a string being yanked. What was this feeling? It scared Marco to his wit’s end, and he forced himself to push it down into the pit of his stomach. Instead of dealing with it, he ignored it completely, pushing himself away from Jean, only to have his mouth run before him.

“Bedroom,” he said, not even offering a hand to Jean, who was still lying on the ground in a daze. This was just the beginning of his improvised... whatever the hell this was. He couldn't stop a snort from emerging at the thought of how ridiculous this all was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re-cap: Jean and Marco get all riled up and horny, so Marco drives them to his house and gets them off in the garage. As soon as Marco starts feeling something strange for Jean, he pushes it away and tries to play it cool, inviting Jean to the bedroom.
> 
> Sorry for the delay! Holiday in retail was super crazy, and now it's starting to slow down again. Thank god for that, too. I hope you like how this story is progressing so far; I may update this periodically, but I'm not sure how much time I have on my hands in 2017. We will see! But I plan to complete this fic, even if it does take me a while. <3  
> See you soon! And Happy New Year!  
> x Kristi


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